Chapter Eleven
Dante
She opens the door as soon as I knock. Angry, I shove my way inside, slamming the fragile wood, causing it to rock on its hinges.
She’s just proven she’s a reckless, na?ve little creature. One who obviously needs me to protect her. I’m seething that she opened the fucking door without a clue who or what was on the other side.
After my meeting with Scarletta this week, I’m bubbling with pent-up violence. He and his fucking man dared to threaten my Evangeline, my territory. Everything that’s mine.
Then, I found out the weasel had paid her pharmacy a visit and talked to her. The fucker will pay. He was warned.
Right now, though I invade her cramped apartment, my size consuming the space. She retreats further inside, her eyes wide with alarm, her plump lips quivering. Terrified. Enticing. She doesn’t know what to make of me or my anger.
Good, she should be scared. Being scared will keep her alive. But I’m not comfortable with her fearing me. I’m her protector.
She doesn’t have the faintest idea of the danger she’s in or that her uncle has made her a sacrificial lamb, doesn’t grasp the monsters she’s dealing with or that the actual monster is, in fact, me.
Evangeline doesn’t know I’ve claimed her as mine, but I’m about to teach her.
“Now, you stalk me at my home?” she breathes, voice barely audible but accusatory, showing her sass. “And why are you angry?”
My lips contort into a savage sneer, and I see her tremble. She’s in nothing but tiny sleep shorts and a thin cotton tank, her small, round breasts and hardened nipples on display. I could have been anyone, and yet, she just opened the goddamn door dressed like this.
“Indeed. You think I’d leave you vulnerable? Bad men are threatening you. And yet, you open your fucking door without looking?”
She shudders, back pressed against the wall, chest heaving. The sight of her fear makes me hard. She looks like a cornered victim, trapped by the bogeyman.
“You need to understand that I’m watching you, keeping an eye on you, always watching what’s mine,” I say, my voice low and raspy, advancing until we are standing toe-to-toe, me towering over her tiny body.
“Am I yours?” she asks, tilting her chin up in a challenge.
“Understand this, strega dolce … I should’ve walked away. Left you to your life. Let your uncle pay for his sins, but you’ve bewitched me, now I can’t stop. I won’t stop now.”
Her lips move, but no sound escapes. I can smell her fear, but I also smell the scent of her desire, the smell of her arousal hovering in the air. She wants me as much as I need to possess her.
Grasping her hair in my fist, I wrench her head back, and crush my mouth against hers, consuming her. She gasps for breath, clutching at my shirt, and when I force my thigh between hers, her body capitulates, arching, begging for me without words.
“Say my name,” I demand against her mouth.
“D … Dante.”
The sound of my name on her lips, breathless and wanting, shatters the last of my restraint, if I had any to begin with. Something about this angel unleashes the beast within me.
When I move my hand between her thighs, she jolts from the sudden touch. Her cotton night shorts do little to hide the fact that she’s already soaked for me. Running my hand along her seam, over the minuscule fabric, I can feel that my sweet prey is drenched for her hunter.
Desperate to feel her slickness against my fingers, to finally touch her sweet pussy, my sweet pussy, I slide her shorts to the side, plunging two of my fingers into her narrow heat. I knew she was wet, but, fuck, she’s dripping.
Groaning in need, I can feel how damn tight she is, but I add one more finger anyway, stretching her, all the while moving my thumb in circles around her clit. She gasps again, differently this time. But this sound is not from fear or lust, but it’s a whine of discomfort.
Instantly, I freeze my movements, coming to a realization. My eyes narrow on her sweet face. Her eyes are closed, waiting for what will happen next.
“Dolcezza, you are untouched. A fucking virgin.” Not a question, but a statement I now know as fact.
I should have fucking known. Evangeline is innocence personified.
Her face burns with embarrassment, and she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need to. Fury and jealousy explode within me, and I want to annihilate every man who’s ever laid eyes on her, who could have touched what is mine alone.
The thought is irrational, because obviously she’s never been with anyone, but I don’t want to even think of a man touching Evangeline. Taking what she saved.
“You’ve preserved yourself,” I rasp, voice choking gruffly, “for me.”
Her mouth opens in response, but whatever she’s going to say fades as I lift her, my fingers digging into her ass as she wraps her legs around my waist, molding her soft body to my hard chest.
Damn if I know what’s going to come out of her mouth, but I’m not about to let her turn me away, refuse me. I’m claiming her innocence for myself. Tonight.
She buries her face in my neck. “Dante…,” she gasps, more surprised than frightened.
Stomping to her room, I hurl her onto the bed, watching as she bounces from the impact, feeling a primal need to be inside her right fucking now.
I tear at the fragile night shorts, ripping them from her body.
The beast in me relishes the sound, so I do the same with her top, revealing her small, round breasts with tiny pink nipples to my hungry gaze, stripping her bare.
I’m out of control, and she’s quaking, eyes glistening. But she doesn’t plead with me to stop. Bending my head and kneeling between her legs, I wrap my mouth around one taut nipple, pulling tight on the hardened bud.
Evangeline moans loudly, threading her fingers through my hair, tugging me closer, letting me know she’s okay with my roughness.
God, she is perfect for me.
“You like the pain, strega dolce?” I chuckle darkly, continuing my onslaught with the other breast, nipping slightly. She arches into my touch, pulling my hair painfully. “My little witch likes it when I play with her nipples? Can I make you come from this alone?”
The question is purely hypothetical, because I know I can. She’s so fucking responsive to my touch, just as I always knew she would be.
Her sounds are incoherent when I slide one hand down to play with her sweet pussy again, spreading her legs wide with mine, so I can thumb the little bundle of nerves while my fingers plunge in and out of her tight hole.
The only sounds in the room are her moans and the wet noise of her arousal as her walls tighten around my fingers.
“Come for me, strega dolce. Let me hear you scream my name as you come apart.”
She surrenders and does, in fact, scream, “Dante! Oh, oh...my god.” Her neck arches, and her eyes are squeezed shut.
“Not god,” I say, as I keep moving my fingers, working her through her orgasm. “Just Dante. I am not your god, but your devil.”
She tenses, her muscles clamping down hard on my fingers. Her pussy is now gushing, soaking the sheets beneath her.
Impatient, I stand and tear off my suit coat and holster, setting them to the side.
Then I reach for the buttons of my shirt, wrenching it open as the buttons fly across the room.
My hands undo the buckle of my belt, and I lower my slacks and my boxer briefs, letting my cock spring free.
It bobs, grateful not to be confined any longer and seeking relief.
“Oh, my,” Evangeline mouths adorably when she sees the size of my cock, and I groan. I give my length one long stroke, attempting to maintain some semblance of control, wanting to last. Her first time has to be special, despite my impatience and roughness.
Having shed my clothes, I brace myself over her small body, covering her, loving the sight of my larger frame engulfing hers.
She’s sprawled beneath me, my sweet prey offering herself to the slaughter.
“This will hurt, tesoro mio,” I warn, balancing on one hand and pulling one of her legs over my arm, spreading her wide, exposing her for me.
Gazing down at her glistening pink pussy, I burn the picture in my brain as I remain poised at the entrance of the tight heat I ache to ravage.
“But this pain is the cost of belonging to me.”
Then I thrust savagely. Her scream pierces the air, raw and anguished. I swallow it with a deep kiss and pin her down, driving into her until no barrier remains between us.
Her nails gouge into me, surely drawing blood. I hope she does. I’ll wear her marks with pride. As I push deeper, her body resists slightly. Holy fuck, she’s so fucking tight.
I make a guttural growl of pleasure, taking pride in knowing I’m the only one to breach these walls.
Finally, I feel her body submit to the invasion, clamping around my cock as if it was made for me alone.
“Such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” I praise, raising up on my knees and grasping her hips, punishing her with my thrusts. “Tell me how much you like me pounding this tight little pussy. Say it,” I demand in my low gravel voice.
“Dante, yes, please … don’t stop…I like it…too much. It’s too, too much,” she whimpers, her head thrashing from side to side as I change position, angling up so I’m hitting her G-spot over and over.
Somehow, I always knew our union would be violent. My need for her is too great, and I don’t do soft. She has no words of protest, nor is she pushing me away. Honestly, I’m too far gone for it to make a damn at this point.
“Look at me,” I snarl, thrusting harder, branding her from within. “Look at the man who possesses you, owns you.”
Her eyes are gleaming, and desperate, locked onto mine. She convulses, shattering beneath me, and I can feel her climax rock through her.
Losing control, I roar her name like a dark prayer, erupting inside her, claiming her in the only way a man like me can. Savage. Irreversible. Eternal.
I keep her pinned and stay buried deep within her. She’s still panting, dazed and wrecked, but I plan on keeping her like this until she knows escape is futile, fucking her all night if need be.
“Now, I keep you, Evangeline,” I growl into her ear, my voice a vow, a curse. “I’m under your spell and you are under mine … there’s no escaping me.”